


Sir Mordred and  the Pond-of-Blood

by Knocksthemoutwithbear



Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Romans | Arthurian Romances - Chrétien de Troyes
Genre: Gen, Mention of incest (Mordred's parentage), Questing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knocksthemoutwithbear/pseuds/Knocksthemoutwithbear
Summary: A curse is cast on King Arthur. He and his kingdom can only be saved by his son finding the cure, but he does not have a son, does he ?
Relationships: Guinevere/Arthur Pendragon
Kudos: 2





	1. Arthur

Summer was now dead in Camelot, and the cold was seeping into evey crack. Down in the fields, the peasants were deserting their harvested fields and turning to the red and gold forest, hurrying back to their homes after dark, envelopped in ragged shawls. Up in the castle, life was not very different, apart from the days becoming shorter and shorter, leaving the knights with much more free time than in the summer season, to the delight of the ladies of the court.  
One evening, the king and his court were enjoying a last feast before winter truly settled in, with its privations in tow. Food was plenty, wine was flowing, and each knight and lady present was cheerfully celebrating, reminiscing the memories of the past year and making bets about the year to come. Sir Dinadan had picked up his lute and was singing merrily, leaning back on his seat at a perilous angle.  
Arthur himself was sitting between his wife Guinevere, radiant and rosy-cheeked, and his trusted brother Kay, tall and loud. It was the best place to be, he thought. In this moment, he could not be happier, surrounded by his knights and loved by all. All those present, at least, he mused, looking at the empty seat where Morgane used to sit. No one had seen her in more than a year, and yet Arthur knew he would hear about her again, sooner or later.  
Taking a sip of wine, Arthur distractedly noticed Dinadan sing a verse about sunflowers. It must have had a double meaning for those listening more carefully, as Sir Gawain, who had been blessed with powers by the Sun, whistled out indignantly. Dinadan only grinned wider and kept on singing.  
Arthur watched Gawain turn away from the jesting knight, returning to his conversation with Lancelot. As Arthur and Guinevere did not have children and would never have any after all this time, it was Gawain, the eldest of Arthur's nephews, who would succeed Arthur in being king. He was a fine knight and a fine man, perhaps a little brash, but he would make a good king.  
Arthur was putting down his cup when the doors of the hall swung open and a great gust of freezing wind swooped in, extinguishing all the fires and candles. Dinadan's lute struck an awkward chord and everyone went silent. In the entrance stood a tall figure, shining with bright blue light in the now dark room. It had long, floating hair, and a youthful face, neither male nor female. Its eyes were pure white. The creature pointed a finger at Arthur, who stood up to face it. Before he had a chance to ask anything, the entity spoke in a soft, distant voice : "King Arthur, you live peacefully, thinking you have reached your fate and nothing can hurt your kingdom now. You ignore any thoughts about you legacy and heritage, and tell yourself you have resolved everything, you could die tomorrow and the kingdom would be at peace. You do not truly know the valour of those around you yet. I shall show it to you, and then you will know what you need for Camelot."  
Arthur raised a hand to appease the members of the court. "How so ?" he asked. The creature turned their palm towards the king. "You are now ill. Every day that passes will see you weaken until you waste away into an endless sleep. When you lose your conscience, the kingdom will fall into famine and misery, and it will disappear. The only cure is the flowers you find in the mane of kelpies in the waters of the Pond-of-Blood. Only they, absorbed with a mare's milk, will restore you." With a flash of blue light, the spirit had vanished and the doors were closed, the fires roaring again.  
Not a second had passed before all the knights were on their feet, clamouring they were heading to this pond immediately. Arthur had to shout to get them to silence. "My dear knights, I know you all would wish to go on this quest. I, however, need most of you here, ready to defend Camelot if need be. I will designate the men to go find the cure, and shall send more if they come back unsuccessful. Gawain, Bors, Agravine, Galahad, and Alymede, you are to ride out in search of this pond. Everyone else stays."  
Agravine and Gawain looked slightly skeptical about the very young Galahad, but they said nothing about it as they ran out of the hall with the other three. The rest of the assembly sat back down on their chairs, discussions flying. Arthur noticed the worry etched on Guinevere's face. He took her hand. "My Queen," he said in a low voice. "I assure you I have absolute faith in these knights. They will come back very soon, with the cure, and it will be as if nothing happened. You will see."  
But in the meantime, as the days passed by, Arthur felt his limbs becoming heavier, his movements becoming slower and his nights becoming longer and more lethargic. It was as if he was aging several years every day. He found himself looking out from the Argray tower, searching the horizon for a sign of his five knights, but in vain.  
At last, three weeks after their departure, they came galloping back under the cheers of the crowd pressed in the courtyard. When they dismounted, however, it became clear that they were not bearing good news. Gawain marched up to Arthur, his face uncharacteristically glum.  
"Your Majesty, we have not been successful. We tried as much as we could, but the pond's magic won't allow us to find the kelpies." Arthur tried not to show any emotion.  
"Let us gather around the table. We can talk at length there." He led Gawain to the Round Table with a hand on his shoulder, the other knights following suit. Arthur glanced at Galahad. The boy looked devastated, and if he had been within arm's reach, Arthur would have lain a hand on his shoulder too, to reassure him that whatever had failed was not his fault.  
Once they were all seated, Arthur gestured for Gawain to speak. "We rode out in search of the Pond-of-Blood. After asking our way around repeatedly, we finally arrived near a small pond bearing that name. However, no matter how long we waited, we could find no kelpies, in daytime or nighttime. We searched the pond's surroundings and found an old witch waddling away with a basket of laundry. We asked her if there were any kelpies in the pond. She said "There are many things in the pond for those who need them." Sir Agravine asked if there were flowers capable of healing curses. She said "There are indeed, but they are hidden from your view." Sir Galahad inquired if there was a way to find and retrieve those flowers. The old witch answered "All may enter the pond, but only those seeking to help their parents, their ascendants through blood, will find what they need. I can't guarantee they will catch a kelpie, but they will see them !"  
Having thanked the witch, we returned to the pond. The King having no children, we decided that as his nephews, Agravine and I could attempt it. We both stepped into the pond, together then separately, but nothing happened. We searched desperately but found nothing, and decided to head back."  
The knights sat in shock, before Kay cried out in outrage : "The wicked creature cursed us, knowing there would be no way to find the cure ! What are we to do now ? The king and the kingdom are in danger !" All the men were disturbed, some shaking their heads or staring fixedly at Arthur. Lancelot was murmuring something inaudible, his lips barely moving, Percival was chewing his lower lip so hard his teeth were cutting the skin, and even Mordred had gone quite pale.  
Arthur closed his eyes and wished that Merlin was with him to guide him. But the mage was not here. Arthur tried to imagine what he would say, what he had taught him about curses... not much, but there was one piece of advice he remembered clearly. "No magic curse can be cast unless there is a way to break it. If there really was no solution, it would simply not work. As you may have noticed, I am already feeling the effect of the curse, which means somewhere, somehow, there is a way to heal me and save Camelot."  
But what was it ? He met Kay's eyes. "Forgive me, Sire," said his brother. "But the situation calls for less delicacy than normal. Could there be child you would not know about, perhaps ?"  
Arthur nodded gravely. "It seems the most plausible explanation. But where to find this child ? Before I married the queen I have known several women, and indeed after as well. I would guess the child would be old enough to complete this task, but how to find them ?" He stayed silent for several minutes, before rising from the table. "I shall think over this problem and consult with the queen as well. I will let you rest for the night."  
The rest of the assembly rose and left, leaving only Arthur, Kay and the old Ulfin. Arthur was lost in thought. Could he, then, have fathered a child ? He felt his heart warm at the thought. Would they look like him ? A boy or a maiden ? Suddenly an unpleasant memory stirred in his mind. He told himself to push it back, to forget it. His thoughts were interrupted by a knocks on the door. Guinevere entered the room.  
"I was told you called for me, my lord," she said, walking up to Arthur. He took her hand in hers. "My lady, we are in a complicated situation," he sighed. In a few words, he summed up the problem. Guinevere showed no anger, only a steely resolve. "I will help you find this child at any cost, my lord," she said when he had finished. "I could not bear to lose you and see Camelot fall into despair and gloom." Arthur brought her hands up and kissed them. He was happy to have such a noble queen, and was about to tell her so when there was another, quieter knock.  
"Enter," called Arthur ; the door creaked open and Mordred slipped in. "What is it ?" Mordred stood awkwardly by the door, avoiding eye contact and not speaking. Guinevere raised her eyebrows and left the room. Like most of the court, she did not like to be in the presence of Arthur's youngest nephew.  
"Have you lost your tongue ?"asked Kay, but Arthur shot him a silencing look. It was unlike his usual self to be at loss for words. The injunction had at least made Mordred shake himself into speaking.  
"I know how to get the cure," he blurted out. "I know everything." He seemed to regain his courage and looked straight at Arthur.  
"How ?" Arthur frowned. He didn't know anything and didn't like the idea of Mordred being aware of something he wasn't. It was always better for a king to know at least as much as the other subjects, but especially this boy.  
"Simple," said Mordred in a slightly wavering voice, which made him clamp his jaw shut for a second. He took a breath and continued more firmly : "Years ago you unknowingly slept with your half-sister Morgause. She did not know who you were either. She gave birth to a baby, but there was a prophecy- a bad prophecy about a child born on the first of May, and Merlin had you drown all the babies born that day, to avoid it coming true."  
Kay and Ulfin were watching Arthur with wide eyes. Arthur frowned. "He told me a child was born, who would bring forth the end of Camelot. I never knew one of those babies was my own... the child is dead, then ?" He cursed Merlin's constant refusal to tell him the whole truth.  
"Your child was the sole survivor and was brought back to Morgause and her husband, to be raised among their other children, without Lot knowing he was not the father of this one." Mordred stepped closer to Arthur. "I am your son."  
Arthur stepped back. He stared wordlessly at Mordred. "Do you have any proof ?" asked Kay. Mordred looked at him over his shoulder. "How would I have invented all of that on my own ? But if you want proof, my mother met the king right before his coronation, in a mysterious palace he never was quite sure how he came to enter or leave. She was his sole hostess. You can ask her, ask my aunt Morgane, or you can even ask Merlin, I'm sure he knows enough about everyone's life."  
Arthur slowly shook his head. "He says the truth," he said. "I recall the castle and woman he talks about-although I had no idea who was lying underneath the appearance," he added. He turned back to Mordred. "Will you undertake the task, then ? Will you find the cure for the curse ?"  
Mordred nodded solemnly. "The survival of Camelot depends of it. I will leave immediately, if I may."  
Arthur sighed. "Wait until morning, you can leave fully rested. You can leave as early as you want tomorrow." Taking this as a dismissal, Mordred started walking towards the door. Arthur called out to him : "How long have you known all of this ?" Mordred answered as he went through the door :"Ever since I was at the court."  
Arthur watched the door close and listened to Mordred's footsteps die in the distance. He was shaken, to say the least. Of all the knights young enough to be his sons, it had to be Mordred, and concieved in such a horrible way... he felt a pang of guilt. The boy had had to live with this knowledge for years, and he was still only sixteen. Maybe this was the reason for his dreadful personality and interest in magic.  
That night, Arthur joined Guinevere in her chambers and told her the whole story. She stood shock-still while he explained what he had just learned. At last she shook her head sadly : "My lord, I am sorry to hear such things. I must wonder : Mordred said he was going to find the cure because Camelot needed it. I don't doubt that he would wish the best for the kingdom anyway, but don't you think this phrasing maybe reveals an interest ? After all, if he is your natural son, even illegitimate, he has a claim to the throne..."  
Arthur nodded. "I thought as much. I must ponder over this : on one hand, he seems keen on keeping this a secret, which means I can't make him heir and explain the change, but on the other hand I am certain he would love to have the throne, and I fear he might rebel against Gawain once I am gone. Now with the curse, I fear this might happen sooner then expected."  
Guinevere pursed her lips. "I will admit, I would rather see Camelot go to Gawain than to Mordred... but you should try to adress the problem with Gawain and Mordred themselves." Arthur's mind felt heavy at the prospect, and he went to bed in a somber mood.  
Arthur rose late again in the morning, moving his legs with great effort. Guinevere was already sitting in a nearby chair. When she saw how slow he was, she told him she had woken at dawn and seen Mordred riding out as the sky barely turned red.


	2. Mordred

Mordred pulled his shoulders together near his neck in a poor attempt to keep out the cold. His horse's breath came out in billowing clouds as he galloped forwards. Day was still far away, but it wasn't night either, and the sky was flushed with stunning colors. Mordred wasn't one for poetry, but he knew how to appreciate the beauty of the world better than any other knight. He had been raised in the knowledge of the many magics of nature.  
He knew where he was going; he had managed to get the itinerary out of Galahad without him even noticing, and he knew how to navigate his way around like no one else. His only worry was time : he hoped the king would not slip into eternal sleep before he even had time to come back. The kingdom would be lost, and all of Mordred's dre ams would fade away with his home. "At least," he thought, "It will be up to Gawain to deal with the fall of Camelot, not me." The thought made his stomach boil with resentment. He had a better claim to the throne then Gawain, he was the grandson of Uther Pendragon, and the son of Arthur...  
Mordred pushed down these thoughts for the moment. It was of no use to think about that now. He concentrated on the road in front of him, pushing his horse a little faster. He could achieve the journey in five days if he was lucky. The weather wasn't a problem, one of the good reasons to study magic ; his horse and the state of the road were the only possible hindrances.  
It was six days before he got to the Pond-of-Blood. As he dismounted, he noted the pond was not very different from any other, surrounded in trees and bushes, with a smooth surface and a clump of yellow reeds under the opposite bank.  
Mordred remembered Gawain's story and the witch saying there were kelpies inside the pond. Tying his horse to a low branch, he shed his armor and carefully approached the water. As soon as he had stepped in, he felt himself falling forwards very fast, but he did not come crashing to the ground as he expected. Instead, he found he was still standing upright, at the same place in the pond, but his surroundings had changed. His experience as a sorcerer confirmed that he had just found what he was looking for.  
Mordred got out of the pond and went to sit under a tree near the water, waiting silently. Soon enough, a group of greenish-blue horses emerged from the pond, shaking liquid manes and scattering pink petals into the water. They had dark eyes and made a soft splashing sound as they moved. Mordred watched them, deep in thought. If he could get them to move very fast, flowers would simply drop from their manes and he could just pick them up. However, a hoard of angry kelpies was not something he wanted to deal with at any time. He could try to use magic, but it was always more dangerous to use magic against intelligent species.  
He bit his lip, watching a tall kelpie with many pink flowers in its mane walk nonchalantly nearer to him. A brief thought grazed his mind : "Gawain would have tried running after them, probably." His half-brother was always so ready to jump into action, often without thinking too much. It might work against giants and other knights, but it would be useless here. At the first alarm, the kelpies would vanish into the depths of the pond.  
Suddenly, an idea came to him. He rubbed his hands together, concentrating on his magical abilities to create an appealing flowery scent. After a few seconds, the smell of an entire herbal garden surrounded him. The kelpies lifted their heads towards him. Mordred kept going, and at last the big kelpie stepped forwards, one foot after the other, sniffing the air with interest. When he got close, just one step too far, he stopped. Mordred feared he would realize the trick and turn around. Its huge head stretched, the kelpie searched the flowers it was smelling.  
Very slowly, Mordred extended his hand, reaching over to grasp one of the flowers. He was extremely careful not to touch the creature, for a single contact meant he would be stuck to the kelpie's skin and dragged back into the water to be devoured. Between his middle finger and thumb, he pinched the petals of the closest flower and gently pulled. The kelpie moved, nostrils trying to explore around to find the source of the smell, which was Mordred's right hand. He moved it a bit further, keeping it ever-so-slightly out of the beast's reach.  
Finally, the flower slipped out from the kelpie's mane and Mordred almost lept back, but he caught himself before he made a brusque movement to scare the animal. He took a few cautious steps back, dissipating the flowery smell as fast as he could. The kelpie froze, but did not follow him. Mordred was already mentally celebrating his victory when he realized he had to step back into the pond to get back on the other side, where his horse was still waiting for him.  
Mordred crept sideways along the bank until he was far enough from the kelpies, who had turned their attentions away from him. He hesitated a second, watching the fearsome creatures, before running into the pond. He felt himself fall backwards this time, and didn't wait for everything to stabilize again before he made for the bank. As a result, he took two steps forwards and fell flat into the water, but as he stood up he saw that he had made it back to the safe side. He still hurried out of the pond, back to his horse. He still had the flower, firmly clasped in his fist.  
The flower stayed fresh even after five days in Mordred's pocket as he rode back to Camelot. What had happened to the king during his absence ? he wondered. When he pulled his horse to a stop in the middle of the courtyard, a woman let out a scream, and everyone around ran towards him. He dismounted and pushed through the crowd. Sir Palamedes ran up to him. "Sir Mordred, the king is in his bedroom. Let us not lose a moment."  
Palamedes led Mordred into the castle and up to Arthur's chambers. The other knight knocked on the door. "Sir Mordred is back ! Let him in." The door flung open at once, and a servant ushered Mordred in. He handed her the flower and she scurried off to a corner of the room. Mordred stood awkwardly in the spot before heading for Arthur's bedside.  
Guinevere was seated by her husband. She stroke Arthur's face and he stirred. "Sir Mordred has returned," she said softly, and Arthur opened an eye. He saw Mordred and moved, pushing himself up with some effort. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but his voice failed him. Mordred walked up to his king and kneeled by his bed. Arthur was emaciated and pale, his eyes were lacklustre ; the resemblance with Mordred must have been more striking for Guinevere, who was looking from Arthur to Mordred with a resigned expression.  
The servant came back with a bowl, which she handed to Guinevere with a shaking hand. Guinevere lifted Arthur's head and tilted the bowl to help him drink. Mordred shifted on his feet : he did not like the stuffy, heavy silence hanging over the room as Arthur drank sloppily. When Guinevere set the bowl on the table behind her, Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. Everyone held their breath as he seemed to gather his strength.  
At last he stood up, so suddenly that some moved to catch him in case he crumbled to the ground. But he stood firmly, fully restored. "Thank you, but I am well. The curse is lifted, thanks to you, Mordred." Mordred nodded.  
"I did what I must, my King," he said tersely. He was fully aware of Palamedes and the servants watching the exchange curiously. Arthur walked up to Mordred and clamped him on the shoulders solemnly.  
"You and I have many things to discuss, to right what was wronged in the past. We have time for all of this, but I wish to tell you now : I am deeply thankful to you. You have just saved my life, Mordred, and may this bring you glory and honor among my knights."  
Mordred did not know what to answer, so he muttered "I am glad you are healthy again." Arthur let him go, and Mordred bowed his head to him and Guinevere before turning heel and leaving the room. Palamedes watched him pass with a mildly startled expression, but Mordred did not offer any explanation. He knew his problems might only be starting : now, Arthur knew he was the child of the prophecy, destined to destroy Camelot. He went directly to his rooms, avoiding anyone who would be eager to discuss his mission. As Arthur had said, there would be plenty of time for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it ! I always thought Mordred and Arthur's relationship to be one of the most interesting in the legend, and wanted to contribute to this fandom.


End file.
